


How Good Does It Feel

by inlovewithnight



Category: Bandom, Empires
Genre: Fisting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 13:15:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1551776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the "commentfist" fisting comment fic meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Good Does It Feel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lalejandra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalejandra/gifts).



Sean loves meeting people in bars.

He loves meeting people in general. He likes people. They’re interesting, and they’re funny, and often they say nice things. People he meets in bars are statistically more likely to have all three of those things be true. He loves it.

Today the bar in question is in Tulsa, Oklahoma, and Sean is feeling particularly full of affection for everyone inside its walls. Everyone is witty and kind and glad to meet him. This is a good bar. This is a good day.

Tom comes inside from using his phone and Sean waves at him, trying to call him over to meet the guy Sean’s been talking to, an older biker who’s in the middle of a trip from Montana to Mexico. Border to border, how awesome is that? He’s a great guy. Tom should take his picture.

Tom waves back, but veers off toward the bathroom. Sean sighs and grabs his beer. “That’s my buddy Tom. I’ll get him when he’s done with his business.”

The biker snorts. “Might be a while.”

Sean _loves_ bar guys. They’re so cryptic and interesting. “What do you mean?”

“He’s got that flag going in his pocket, says he’s looking for a friend.”

“Huh?”

The biker looks at him for a minute, then takes his phone out of his pocket, taps at it for a few minutes, and hands it to Sean. The screen’s showing a Wiki page about something called the gay hanky code.

“Red bandanna, right back pocket,” the biker says. “Check it out.”

Bar guys are so fucking awesome, Sean can’t even deal.

**

They have a hotel room that night, which means Sean has a place to sit Tom down for a talk after the other guys go out looking for… something. He wasn’t paying attention. More beer? A movie? Weed? Whatever, they’re gone and he has a few minutes with Tom.

“Tommy,” he says. “I had no idea.”

Tom is always patient. “You had no idea about what, Sean?”

“That you were _signaling_.”

Tom blinks slowly. “Signaling what?”

“It’s cool. I read about it online. The biker showed me.”

“Still don’t know what you’re talking about, Sean.”

Sean sighs and reaches around Tom, pulling the bandanna out of his back pocket. “This!”

Tom stares at it for a moment, then starts to turn red. The biker guy was totally right, and Sean is glad he bought him that last round of beer.

“Tommy,” he says. “Tommy, it’s okay. I can totally help you out with that.”

“You and I don’t have sex, Sean.”

“This isn’t sex!” Sean drops the bandanna and squeezes Tom’s hand. “It’s helping a buddy out. And you’re my best buddy, Tom.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s sex.”

“It doesn’t have to be if we don’t think it is.” Sean squeezes Tom’s hand again. “Words only mean what we construct them to mean, dude.”

Tom looks at him for a minute, and then starts to laugh. Sean loves it when Tom laughs, it’s this weird little giggle and it’s just so… it’s _Tom_. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

“One hundred percent.”

“And you really want to put your hand inside me as, like. A favor.”

“A mark of friendship,” Sean says.

Tom looks down at Sean’s hand for a moment. “You better run to the store and buy some lube.”

**

Tom talks him through it, because that’s what Tom does. He guides Sean along.

“That’s good,” Tom says, hoarse and breathless, on his knees on the bed with his head resting on his crossed forearms. “That’s really good, Sean. Okay. Now, like. Add another finger… stop. Stop. More lube, first. Okay. Try it again.”

Sean eases a third finger into Tom, thrusting carefully. Tom is so fucking hot, temperature-wise. And looks-wise. Tom is really fucking hot in general, but right now Sean is extra-aware of it because his fingers are _inside_ Tom, inside that heat, held in place by tight muscles that he can tell Tom is trying to relax on each breath.

“You’re beautiful, Tommy,” Sean says, moving his fingers again, slowly, reaching deeper. “Tell me how it feels.”

“It… it’s good, it’s a lot, it’s… stop a minute.” Sean obediently holds his hand still, keeping Tom full and open but not asking for more. Tom takes a ragged breath, then a more steady one, drawing air in deep and holding it in his lungs. “Okay. Thank you. Um. Go _slow_.”

Sean starts moving again, slower, marveling at the way his skin slides against the delicate inside of Tom, eased by KY and patience. “The best you’ve ever had, right?”

“Shut up.” Tom laughs a little and then groans. “Okay. Okay. Fold your thumb under your fingers and… that, too. Yeah. Oh, god. Just do it. Yeah.”

Sean isn’t sure what’s better, knowing he’s doing what Tom wants or knowing he’s the reason Tom’s face looks like that, the reason Tom’s making those noises. He’s making Tom sweat and shake. He’s rocking Tom’s world.

“Should I go for it? Go all the way?” Sean pulls his hand back a little, then pushes in. “Are you ready for that?”

“I… yes. Yes. Do it. But slow. F-fucking… fucking… oh, god.” Tom bucks back against him, and Sean makes himself pause, makes himself wait. He can be patient. He wants Tom to feel everything.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Tom whispers, his body clenching around Sean’s wrist. “So good. So good, Sean.”

“Anything for you,” Sean says, moving his hand just a little, but enough that Tom moans again. “Any time.”

Tom lasts another couple of minutes, maybe even as much as ten, Sean can’t see the clock and time isn’t really important except for how the guys might come back at some point. He just knows that his hand and arm still aren’t crampy or uncomfortable yet when Tom says, “Okay. Enough. I can’t… can’t take any more.”

“Slow, right?” Sean asks, and Tom nods, desperate and flushed and leaving drops of sweat on the sheets.

Sean eases his hand out and goes to wash up, leaving Tom sprawled out across the mattress, traces of shit and lube running down his thighs, legs apart, face buried against the pillow. For just a minute he’s unguarded and defenseless, he’s raw cracked-open _Tom_ , and it’s the most beautiful art Sean’s ever seen.


End file.
